The Doctor's Bane
by summerartist
Summary: This is a collection of hurt/comfort style stories starring Bashir and Garak.
1. A Dear Friend

A/N: I had some leftover hurt/comfort style stories from my last group of DS9 fics. Any warnings that apply will be included at the beginning of each fic.

* * *

When Julian Bashir had lost Jadzia Dax it had not been a lost romance. It had been something deeper, something more solid. It was not just friendship or potential love. There was complete and utter trust and understanding between them. Jadzia was the one who chased away the loneliness that plagued him. Her smile and laughter could light up a room and leave him happy for hours, days even. Her humor was infectious. Then she was gone, leaving a hole in his life that loomed larger and larger within each passing hour after her loss.

He wanted to believe that there was a way he could have kept her alive. She had been there, breathing and with blood pumping through her veins. He should have been able to save her. The wraith's deadly powers overcame all attempts to keep her breathing. The internal bleeding was extensive and it was too little too late. In the end he was only able to save her symbiote. She had been glad it was safe, and the thought that she had valued it more than her own existence made him both sickened and saddened.

He had given confirmation of her looming death to his friends with slightly moist eyes. Even his considerable genetic enhancements could not come up with a solution to reverse the damage that had been done to her.

After the symbiote was sent on a transport and Worf had finished mourning with the body, Bashir was sent off duty. Everyone went to grieve alone or with a lover. Some individuals prayed, others wept. Bashir could not bring himself to do either. If only he had reached her sooner she might have stood a chance. He could have kept her in stasis and then quickly corrected the damage to her organs. He could have replaced what she had lost and now because of him, she was gone.

Not for the first time he felt like a stranger in his own skin. He took off his scrubs slowly and with an empty expression. He emerged from the infirmary and stepped onto the promenade. He paused.

Everyone was going about their business. The restaurants on the promenade bustled with activity and merchants and travelers flitted about. Something felt wrong about it all, as if the whole station should be quiet and in mourning. Instead it was loud, bright, and full of sights and smells. He was often on the brink of a sensory overload with his genetic enhancements and now this environment nearly put him over the edge.

He fled through the crowd. Noises bombarded him. There was the shriek of young children and the chatting of diners and shoppers. Quark's varied menu produced sour and salty smells. There was the odor of produce, the gentle clinking of jewelry, and the brush of Bajoran tunics and shawls on his shoulders as he pushed through the crowd. The colors were too bright and the details were too vivid. He walked quickly. He bumped into an older Bajoran who dropped her shopping bags with a curse.

"Doctor? Doctor!"

A voice called after him and it nearly got lost in the haze of voices. Julian ignored them. He had to get to the lift or just somewhere dark and quiet. This usually did not happen to him. Something must have triggered his disorientation. A hand grabbed his arm.

"Doctor, is Commander Dax-"

Julian finally turned and faced the curious individual to find that it was Garak who had stopped him. The tailor's expression was nearly inscrutable, but to Julian's experienced gaze his anxiousness was revealed. As the human watched, the Cardassian's shoulders sagged.

"I see."

The tailor must have observed the answer to all of his questions written plainly on his face. Julian started to tilt away from him, displeasure at his surroundings showing in his body language.

"Garak, I have to go."

The doctor was on the verge of hyperventilating. He needed to leave now or risk becoming completely undone before the Cardassian's eyes. There were very few people he would show his grief to in the Alpha Quadrant and Garak was not one of them. Their relationship's stability relied on mutual respect and verbal sparring. 'Grief counselor' would not be a title he would attribute to the tailor any time soon.

Elim must have seen something of his desperation reflected in his gaze. He took a small step backward, no longer crowding him.

"I can also observe that you need some time in peace. If you should ever need anything, I am at your service."

"Thank you." Julian's gratitude was genuine.

Garak gave a parting incline of the head and let the doctor beat a hasty retreat. Bashir fled the scene and stepped onto the lift before the doors could close. The lift was crowded and hot, but he could bear it until he reached the habitat ring. With a thunderous whirr, the lift traveled down. The doctor could feel the bile rise up in his throat in response to the sensory bombardment.

After what seemed like much longer that a few seconds the lift reached the habitat ring and Bashir was the first out of the crowded space. He was walking in a daze, the ringing in his ears reaching a deafening pitch. When he reached his quarters he staggered. Luckily no one was there to direct concerned queries at him. He entered his rooms and abruptly sat down. His world suddenly stopped whirling about. The displacement was reduced to a shudder, a ripple, a calm body of water.

He breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled through parted lips. His toes and fingers tingled. This was good. He was calm. He idly gazed about the room, focusing his attention on tangible objects. There was his computer console and his grandmother's pottery…

When he reached his bookshelf he saw a book on Trill physiology. His careful control cracked.

* * *

The wall communicator was beeping. The sound was jarringly loud. The human rose up, bed sheets becoming tangled around him. His hair was mussed spectacularly. After his private storm he had somehow managed to crawl into bed. The station rotation schedule said he was off duty until tomorrow. He could not have slept for long.

"Computer, identify caller."

_Caller identified as Mr. Garak._

What did his friend want now? In his condition it never occurred to him that the call might have been issued to check on his welfare.

He was at a loss of what to do. He did not feel like talking, hell, he was not even sure if he was capable. It seemed that everything he had kept bottled up since the start of the Dominion War had come pouring out of him. The casualty reports, the patients that died in transport, the extra work hours…it had all been let loose with the death of Jadzia. He had let it ravage him until his face looked like he had seen several wars. He glanced at the reflective surface of the monitor. He could not put himself on screen looking like that.

"Answer with voice hail."

_Acknowledged._

"Ah, doctor, how good of you to answer this time." There was gentle reproach in the Cardassian's tone.

"I've been asleep, so I didn't hear the call alert."

"My apologies for disturbing you. Is there a particular reason why my monitor is treating me to a view of your quarters and not your charming presence?"

Julian felt his ire rise. He had lost a dear friend, one of his most trusted confidants. Did Garak expect for him to just bounce back from that and slip a smiling mask on?

"What do you want, Garak?"

"Want? Nothing. Is it not a human cultural practice to provide company for someone who has suffered a loss? The question, dear doctor, is what would you like from me? I have a bottle of Quark's best kanar, ample means to treat a friend to dinner, and even a willingness to attend a holosuite program."

Julian frowned. He said nothing. After a long pause, Garak spoke again.

"Come doctor, a one sided conversation isn't ideal for any Cardassian."

"That's very kind of you, Garak, but I need to have some time to myself."

"We've both been having an overabundance of that lately, don't you think?"

The statement surprised him in multiple ways. Not only was the Cardassian refusing to back down, but he had just come close to admitting that he was lonely. Ever since the war started they had spent less and less time together. Julian was constantly busy in the infirmary and Elim was decoding messages and keeping an eye on the war front.

"I won't be very good company."

"My dear doctor, your company is appreciated in any form." There was no lie in his tone.

The doctor thought it over.

"…the kanar sounds nice."

"Dinner will be available should you change your mind. Does a quarter of an hour give you enough time to prepare?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you in your section of the habitat ring."

"All right."

As the transmission was cut off, Julian wondered just how much of it had been real. The more he got to know the tailor the more of an enigma he proved to be. Perhaps a mystery is what he needed now, but more importantly he needed the company of a friend.  
Feeling a sharp tug in his chest, he remembered how Jadzia would play the role of getting him out of his private world when something was troubling him.

He glanced over at the stars twinkling through the viewport, recalling her smile and her glimmering eyes. Her wise words echoed through his mind. Remembering her like this made it seem as though she was still alive, thinking about him in some distant place. He felt her presence linger as an ethereal warmth of body and mind. That was how he would remember her.

* * *

The End


	2. A Hairy Situation

A/N: Warning for some initial bloodiness.

* * *

Chief O'Brien and Garak marched side by side into the infirmary. They had expressions on their faces that conveyed their mutual dislike despite Garak's usual calm veneer. The tailor's polite mask had slipped presumably due to pain. Dark rivulets of blood dripped down his pale grey neck. He clutched at his scalp near his temple, trying to stem the flow of blood from his head injury. Bashir took one look at them before ushering Garak over to sit on a bio bed. He ignored Miles for the moment to focus on the sticky head wound. The cut had been made with a sharp blade and it had slashed the side of Garak's scalp. It was not a particularly dangerous injury, but the location caused it to bleed excessively.

"What happened?"

Miles answered, "There was a fight in Quark's. Someone pulled a knife on him before Odo showed up."

"Though I appreciate the concern, you didn't need to escort me here, Chief. Unless I'm mistaken, your shift starts soon."  
The tailor exhaled with a hiss as the doctor spread a coagulator over the injury.

"Didn't need to be escorted? You were stumbling around the promenade clutching your head. You weren't even heading in the right direction."

"This might sting a bit," the doctor warned as he readied a wad of cotton padding. His warning was disregarded during the ensuing argument.

"I was trying to go back to my quarters. I have a perfectly good medical kit-ah!" Garak gave a sharp intake of breath as Julian cleaned the gash with disinfectant.

"Do you need a painkiller?"

"It's a bit late for that, doctor," the Cardassian said with traces of amusement.

"Thanks for escorting him to the infirmary, Chief."

"I knew you would want to patch him up. I need to get back to work. Darts this evening though?"

"If Quark's is in any condition, yes."

"Good. I'll see you then." The engineer stepped quickly out of the infirmary.

A slight smile started to quirk over the doctor's lips before he cleared his throat and resumed his task. Garak observed the reactions curiously. The Cardassian was aware that the engineer had made a hastier retreat than usual because of his presence. At least the doctor seemed happy to have their combined company if only for a moment.

"The wound is just visible enough so I won't have to cut your hair," the human informed him.

The Cardassian gave a thoughtful hum. "Cut it if it helps. It's of no concern."

The doctor's eyes widened. Garak's appearance was always immaculate and cutting his hair unevenly would change it drastically.

"Are you sure?"

"My hair follicle growth rate is quite rapid. The change in my appearance will last three days at the most."

"Well…if you're sure."

There was a laser tool designed for just such a job. He took it out of his collection of implements and approached his patient. He hesitated before he gently sheared several inky black locks off. Now he could continue disinfecting the gash and start applying the dermal regenerator. The tailor seemed utterly unconcerned.

"Does your hair really grow that fast?" Julian was undeniably curious. Cardassian habits and hygiene had not been in Tain's biological information he had passed on about the species.

"Oh yes. It can be nearly untamable. You're doing me a favor."

"How do you keep that length all the time? If it grows so fast you'd have to cut it every other day."

"It's easier than shaving one's jaw…or so I'm told. I didn't always choose to cut it. I kept it long in my earlier years."

That was an interesting mental picture. He imagined Garak with a round youthful face and long stringy black hair trailing down his back or perhaps over his shoulders. He was still not picturing it clearly. Perhaps the tailor was telling another tall tale.

"The other children enjoyed tying it up for me. That sort of vanity was permitted on Cardassia in my generation. We've become somewhat stricter with our recreational activities since then."

Garak with a ponytail-like plait was easier to see. Human children enjoyed playing with hair and it was interesting to see that social habit exhibited in another humanoid species. Woe be it to any human child with long hair who had an aspiring fashion stylist in their group of friends. Luckily, Jules had average length hair and his social mannerisms warded off such attentions. Looking back at it now…it actually would have been better if he attracted that kind of attention. Perhaps the other children would have gotten along with him.

"There's that look again," Garak said abruptly.

"What look?"

"You always make that expression whenever anything childhood related is brought up. Is your childhood really so painful to contemplate?"

The doctor kept his expression unreadable.

"I was very different back then."

"Unrecognizably different? Were you cruel to animals perhaps? Did you bully the other children? No…I don't think you were different so much as perceived yourself as such. A generous healing nature like yours isn't simply learned from the misadventures of youth," Garak said thoughtfully.

"No, I meant I wasn't bright at all."

"Bright?"

"Intelligent." The doctor swallowed and put away the dermal regenerator. He should not have taken the conversation so far.

"Intelligence comes in many forms. Humans have always rewarded the accomplishments in one or two types of intelligence in youth. You were undoubtedly intelligent, doctor, just not in a socially accepted way."

"You sound as though you went through something similar."

Garak just smiled. "Is my scalp adequately healed?"

"Oh yes. There might be some itching and discomfort for a few minutes but it didn't scar."

"Thank you for your services. Now, I should head back to my premises. Diffusing a knife fight has been quite enough excitement, but it was a welcome break from hemming pants." The Cardassian gave him an amiable parting nod.

"Life never stays dull on Deep Space Nine for long," Julian agreed.

The tailor beamed and walked out of the infirmary.

* * *

The End


	3. Farewells

A/N: I'm going back on my word to add this. (feel free to unfav)

Spoiler warning for the last episode!

* * *

Julian Bashir was certain that he had packed everything. He quickly moved all of his personal belongings out of his quarters. Some items were sold, destroyed, or given to practicing colleagues. The room had lost all personal touches.

_So much of it is lost.  
_  
The human remembered a bitter Cardassian voice grieving for the deaths of his people. Julian had lost many friends and pieces of his own bright persona, but it was nothing compared to Elim's losses. The Cardassian was bereft of his people and his home.

_So many of our best people…our most gifted minds…_

Garak had witnessed the death of both his father and mother within a short timeframe. Elim did not speak of Mila much, but his blue eyes always glimmered with respect and affection when her name was mentioned. He had inherited many of her characteristics, and not merely physical traits. His meticulousness and guardedness were Tain, but his passion and wit were all Mila. At least with this war Julian had been the one fighting for his family. His family was healthy and safe, far away from the atrocities of war.

Entire Cardassian cities had been leveled. Their way of life was on the brink of destruction. The statistical number of orphans and widows rose as disease and infection ravaged the populace.

_I'm sorry, Garak. I didn't mean-_

_Oh, it's…it's quite all right, doctor._

The situation was far from all right. Billions were suffering across the Alpha Quadrant. Julian wanted to reverse time, to bring back the past when the only antagonists in their lives had been mishaps. Julian wanted to bring back a year when they could smile again, when joy and laughter were no longer scarce and Elim's home was whole. A particular memory came to mind.

* * *

Garak frowned, forehead ridges becoming furrowed as he squinted with concentration. His screen pen danced over the plastic surface. His writing implement made short and long marks with practiced precision. It had been a year since he had worked this way, but his Cardassian muscle memory remembered the movements combined with the power of his observation.

The spidery scrawl of outlines flowed across the data pad. He would be able to screen print the design with ease now that he had the overall structure down. He would vary up the colors once he applied them to the fabric surface. The holosuite door opened and a smile flitted across the tailor's features. There was the light trod of a slight form on the holosuite floor. Garak could sense the metal echo. The floor might appear as dirt, but his Cardassian senses could discern fantasy from reality.

"I thought that breaking into someone's holosuite program was illegal," he said it lightly, letting a teasing note slip into the statement.

A lean body slid down next to him and a long neck craned over his shoulder. Elim glanced over at the curious hazel eyes, observing his reaction.

"So I hear, but it looks like your privacy hasn't been breached. You're using the holosuite as an art reference?"

Elim beamed and continued to sketch. "You'd be surprised how helpful it is to record the dynamics of an object while in its natural habitat."

Bashir looked over at the cluster of flowers the Cardassian was sketching, eyes wide with bafflement. Taking pity on the doctor's cluelessness, the tailor chose to enlighten him.

"My client is paying rather handsomely for an original piece."

"Oh! They must like daffodils."

Garak hummed agreement, finishing up the drawing and applying a few last colored details. He clicked on a picture of an elaborate blank tunic. He dragged the drawing beside it and placed it over the surface. Large and small daffodils bloomed intricately over the folds of cloth.

"I don't think I've ever seen you put so much effort into something like this before."

"I wouldn't call this a particularly large effort. They paid a hefty sum for a hand drawn design and I had the capabilities to provide."

Julian watched Garak add deep green trimming to the image of the tunic and gave a small sigh. "It seems like it would be relaxing to design things." His tone was envious.

The Cardassian smiled serenely up at him. "Such a level can be reached with practice. Did you enter the holosuite to discover my activities or did you have a particular topic in mind to discuss…?

"You didn't have the holosuite safeties on."

"Ah, I see. I don't wish to trivialize your concern, but I hardly think the flowers wish me harm."

The doctor shrugged. "Maybe not, but the hornets do if you get close to their nest."

"Hornets?" The Cardassian was looking unnerved. "Are those the flying venomous creatures that terrorize Terrans?"

The doctor thought for a moment. It was odd to think about hornets that way, but it was accurate. "I wouldn't call them terrorizing, but a large swarm can be unpleasant. The original programmer put in a couple of surprise nests as a prank. Felix knew them personally and told me about him."

"He sounds quite discourteous. Well doctor, I'll keep alert for buzzing insects," the tailor hastened to reassure him.

The Cardassian slipped his stylus back into the fabric slip on the side of his PADD. He gracefully rose up and dusted himself off. Dry flecks of dirt hung in the air for a moment.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your project."

"It's perfectly all right. I was finished and the holosuite session was coming to an end."

Secretly, Julian thought that was a poor excuse. Everyone on the station had a phobia of some kind. Even the doctor himself had a fear of falling. Miles was not exactly thrilled about centipedes and grubs, Jadzia had a particular aversion to spiders, and Kira disliked feeling trapped. To discover that Garak probably feared stinging insects in addition to enclosed spaces was not surprising.

Julian took a step back to let the Cardassian pass, stepping right into a glaring patch of sunlight. He shielded his eyes. His hand accidentally brushed against a tree branch overhead.

"I'm surprised you chose such a sunny backdrop. I thought Cardassians prefer their surroundings dark."

Garak strode past him towards the holosuite exit, talking all the while. "With natural lighting it hardly matters. I was hoping to best recreate Terran conditions for the customer. The appropriate lighting is-…doctor, do you hear buzzing?"

"Oh no."

Apparently his casual brush of the foliage had aggravated a nest of hornets. Intense buzzing filled the air and the faint shadow of insects could be seen darting around.

Garak's eyes grew large and he and the doctor beat a hasty retreat through the holosuite doors. They pressed the door button repeatedly until they staggered out of the holosuite. They were out of breath and dusty. Garak was striding faster than necessary and his solid build nearly brought them down to the floor. They supported each other until they reached the safety of the interior of Quark's Bar.

They panted for a moment, Julian hunched over with his hands on his knees and Garak with a hand on the human's back to steady them. Suddenly, Bashir began to laugh. He snickered gleefully like a schoolboy that had gotten away with a particularly juvenile prank. Unable to help himself, the tailor chuckled as well. Some of the patrons at the bar watched their antics curiously.

Julian straightened up, gasping and glowing with the brightness of his smile. "Are you all right?"

"Quite. And you?"

"I'm fine, but I think I have a healthier fear of hornets than before. You know, we could have just frozen or ended the program," Bashir mused.

"Instinct has its merits. There was no failsafe in case the programmer took away those features. Running increases circulation and I think the outcome was a beneficiary rather than a detriment."

Julian straightened up, still grinning. "There's hope for me yet?"

The tailor looked thoroughly pleased by the doctor's rehashing of his phrase. "Indeed, doctor. There's always hope for you."

* * *

Julian smiled softly, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

_You've been such a good friend. I'm going to miss our lunches together._

He had not been a decent friend during the war. Garak was loyal to a fault and never missed an opportunity to compliment him, forgive his negligence, and lift his spirits when times were the darkest. He should have told the Cardassian how his friendship was the thing that kept him moving. He fought through the misery and violence because of every grain of kindness that had ever been given to him.

_I'm sure we'll see each other again.  
I'd like to think so, but one can never say. We live in uncertain times.  
_  
Bashir threw a reading PADD into his travel case. It held plenty of human novels, a memento for when all that was familiar was far away. Julian shut down the terminal in his quarters. The replicator had disposed of his belongings, but the things that held the most value always went with him. He reviewed Starfleet's new orders in his mind. With the war over and all of the fighting dwindling down, it was time for worlds to recover. Starfleet medical encouraged non-essential personnel to help people in need, and so he had obtained permission to go on this excursion, to make himself useful where doctors were needed most.

_Uncertain times don't dictate what we do, Garak._ Julian's smile was genuine as he thought to himself. _We'll always have a choice…and this is mine._

The doctor left his quarters on the station, walking straight-backed down the corridor. He was unlikely to return for many years.

* * *

The End

* * *

A/N: There's not much pain today, so I decided to edit old stuff. Not exactly better, but still hanging around


End file.
